Final Register interview: Iowa’s own Andy Williams is ‘Mr. Christmas’ to the nation

A few years ago I interviewed iconic Iowa singer Andy Williams, who died Tuesday night at age 84. He had just published his autobiography and still was performing his signature holiday shows in Branson, Mo. It turned out to be his final Register interview and was published, appropriately enough, on Dec. 25 (Christmas Day), 2009.

“My heart is still in Iowa,” Williams reminisced last week from his winter home in La Quinta, Calif., where he’s honorary mayor. He spends eight months of the year in Branson, Mo., where since 1992 he has performed a series of Christmas shows each fall in his Moon River Theatre.

Crosby’s landmark recording of “White Christmas” aside, Williams, 82, has retained his Mr. Christmas title among the millions who grew up with his holiday TV programs and LPs in the 1960s and ’70s. Peter Sagal, host of the National Public Radio game show “Wait Wait …Don’t Tell Me!,” last weekend pegged Williams as “the man who practically invented the heartwarming Christmas special.”

Might as well also dub Williams the “Godfather of the Christmas Sweater.” The singer’s $20,000 wardrobe for his TV show in the mid-’60s was reportedly dominated by at least 100 sweaters.

Christmas music variety specials are sparse on the tube today. Yet only a Scrooge could completely avoid hearing Williams’ enduring, velvety rendition of “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” on the radio, in a TV ad or in the grocery store aisle while grabbing a carton of eggnog.

“He’s a guy you don’t program without, especially in Iowa,” said Kate Garner of KLTI-FM “Lite” 104.1. That is the 24/7 holiday radio station in Des Moines that airs Williams’ Christmas standards alongside newer seasonal hits by Straight No Chaser, Trans-Siberian Orchestra and Mulberry Lane. KLTI and hundreds of other stations nationwide will spin one of Williams’ recordings more than 80,000 times this season.

Mr. Christmas published his memoir in October, “Moon River and Me.” The book, like his theater, is named after “Moon River,” Williams’ signature song, written by Henry Mancini and Johnny Mercer for the movie “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” (The movies have been as good to Williams as yule tunes. He went on to sing Oscar- and Grammy-winning hits with themes from such films as “Days of Wine and Roses,” “Love Story” and “The Godfather.”)

Williams’ autobiography opens in Iowa and fills the first 30 pages as Andy and his three older brothers grow up singing in the 1930s at the Presbyterian church in Wall Lake. They earn $10 for their first paying gig at a local farmer’s daughter’s wedding.

Wall Lake’s population hasn’t grown much since Williams was born there in 1927 – a population of 749 then compared with 810 today. Besides Williams, the town’s major export has been Cookies barbecue sauce.

After the Williams family’s move to Des Moines in 1936, the Williams Brothers reached a wider audience with a regular spot on WHO radio. Then it was on to Chicago, Cincinnati and Hollywood.

“I sat down and wrote for six weeks, and then I had to stop because I was so sick of myself I couldn’t continue,” Williams said of writing the book. “I put in a lot of stuff that I did that was really dumb and not really attractive sounding to write about. I wanted it to be an honest portrayal of who I was.”

Williams blames his workaholic schedule for the 1969 breakup of his marriage with his first wife, Claudine. She and their three children, Christian, Bobby and Noelle, appeared alongside Williams in his annual Christmas TV specials.

In the book, Williams even details taking LSD under the supervision of a doctor in Canada as a form of marriage counseling. And he stood by his ex-wife in 1977 when she was tried for the shooting of her boyfriend, ski champion Vladimir “Spider” Sabich, and was found guilty of criminally negligent homicide rather than the more serious charge of manslaughter.

After the Williams Brothers split up in 1954, Williams struggled to launch his solo career – so desperate for income at one point that he writes about eating his dog’s Alpo. But after Williams landed a regular guest spot on Steve Allen‘s “Tonight Show” he began his ascent on TV and started to hobnob with Hollywood moviemakers, Elvis, the Rat Pack and more.

Back when Williams was still touring hard in the summer of 1965, he stepped off a plane in Des Moines and was greeted by a crowd of 400 fans at the airport and given the key to the city.

Williams went on to draw 70,000 fans to the Iowa State Fair Grandstand over the course of five shows.

“I didn’t realize he had done some of the things he did,” was Betty Brotherton‘s reaction to Williams’ book. This from the president of Wall Lake’s historical society and one of the primary caretakers of Williams’ restored birthplace and museum that opened in 1998. “He’s known so many people, popular people.”

Brotherton and her husband, Charles, still make a pilgrimage each year to Branson to attend one of Williams’ Christmas concerts.

One of Williams’ closest friends in the 1960s was senator and 1968 presidential candidate Robert Kennedy, whom he agreed to support as a delegate from California at the Democratic convention – even though as a registered Republican Williams would need to switch parties. Williams was with Kennedy on June 5, 1968, in a hotel in Los Angeles when the senator was shot by an assassin. Williams choked back tears to sing “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” at Kennedy’s funeral.

Today Williams says that his “feelings basically are Republican,” and he is convinced that the country is turning toward socialism under President Barack Obama. This month media firebrand Glenn Beck fawned over Williams as he interviewed the singer on his political talk show.

Might the younger Andy Williams of the 1960s who supported the Kennedys also support Obama today if he could step into a time machine and make the trip?

“If I could place myself back 50 years, would I be for Obama?” Williams mused. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, because I’m certainly not for him now.”

Williams today is not only more conservative politically but also semi-retired professionally. While he will still play the occasional show outside Branson, Thursday night he planned to cap his final tour with a Christmas Eve concert at the Las Vegas Hilton.

“I’ve never been in Las Vegas on Christmas, and I can’t imagine why I’m booked in Las Vegas doing a Christmas show in the Hilton Hotel,” he said.

“I’m gonna get on a private plane in the morning and get the hell out of there, flying back to Branson.”

It will now require a big paycheck for a major one-night gig to coax Williams away from the comfort of his apartment-sized dressing room in the Moon River Theater.

“I open the door to the dressing room and walk right out on stage,” he said. “It’s just like walking out into your living room. A big living room, a 2,000-seat living room.”

Williams writes in his memoir, “The 1960s were probably my peak years in terms of fame and fortune. My television show was a hit, and I was releasing three albums a year.”

“When the singer-songwriters came along, that’s when everything changed,” Williams said last week.

Dylan, Beatlemania, the rise of rock ‘n’ roll: Williams’ knit sweaters, slacks and suede boots quickly seemed as genteel as Lawrence Welk for rock fans weaned on electric guitars and confrontational lyrics. Williams now cheers on the young crooners such as Michael Buble who are pushing for a retro revival.

The classic crooner from Wall Lake does nothing to dispel the stereotype of Iowans as modest and self-deprecating to a fault.

“I don’t think of myself as being as good as Sinatra was, or Perry Como,” he said. “I had producers who would give me material, and I would try and choose the best stuff.”

So on this Christmas weekend, Williams will relax at home in Branson with his wife, Debbie, some of their friends, their three dogs, some holiday wine. He might switch on the TV later to watch cable news, maybe an episode of “Cold Case” or “Brothers & Sisters.” His children, some of whom live in California and Costa Rica, will not be in Branson this year.

Williams is booked to perform at next summer’s massive Glastonbury Festival in England – one of those rare major gigs offering a big paycheck.

“I don’t want to ever retire because I really like singing,” he said. “I like working in my theater. It’s wonderful when you have everything the way you want it.”

So kids, follow Mr. Christmas’ example of hard work and humility – if not his 1960s sweater fashions – and every day can be the most wonderful time of the year.